More after the jump…

And the obligatory 4:30 am video; sunrise was not a particularly welcome thing inside the club, though most of us did slacken the pace of dancing a little to have a look.

Get involved with the ETA scene, anyway; particularly strong tunes…the remix of Sister Nancy – Bam Bamat the start of the night blew my mind,

And Blackalicious’s Alphabet Aerobics getting dropped at approximately 6am could have been made for me…

You’ll also ge tthe chance to see international rugby stars consuming small mountains of controlled substances and, potentially, at least one of the Irregulars dancing like Suggs for 5 hours solid. Win!

Aside from mass paranoia, I doubt ravers have a stringent review process of their raving. It’s hardly like they sit down with their boss and rate their glow stick waving, evaluate their gurning and pour over their shit-talking abilities. Maybe that’s all going to change with “How’s My Raving?” this Friday at Cargo. Cargo continue to deliver the freebie Friday frolics, which has seen it soar up the infamous Irregulars ‘respect’ chart (which may or may not exist and may or may not have something to do with me dressing up as a cat and pretending to be George Galloway). This Friday expect madhead dubstep, old school rave, a side portion of that Shoreditch staple Electro and more confused looking preppies than you can shake a big stick at.

Having checked out Girl Talk at La Scala last week, I’m intrigued by the “WeAreLive” night this Friday which sees a load of live acts (including Trash Fashion – remember them of nu rave demi-fame?) with Cagedbaby and Meat Katie doing some live sets. If they manage to attract the herds, this could be a real goer, especially with it finishing up at 6am…fingers crossed as there is a real dirth of decent late, late nights at the moment.

The crazy kids over at Cliche are throwing another sublime party at the Horse & Groom this weekend. We went to their first about a year ago (maybe longer!) with a Nerds theme and it was off the hook. A really great party vibe with the DJ hitting the revellers relentlessly with golden dancefloor bullets like some kind of warped disco sniper. As regular readers will know, the Horse & Groom used to be the Irregular Local, so props to the Landlord Charles who, according to urban legend, is what one might call a sound geezer. There is a theme for Friday night’s session, I’ll update you as soon as I’m updated…UPDATE…it’s a Wild West theme, so bust out those chaps and pistols…ooh er!

Another thing going on over this packed weekend is a party this Saturday via the guys at Greco Roman, which we stumbled across on the consistantly sublime, Pinglewood. Another chance to see Drums of Death, who’ll you remember we reviewed a little while ago. We were going to be interviewing him but turns out his PR people are tards.

Thanks to Art of the State for the image of Dragon Bar, as was on Leonard Street.

Whilst the arrival of more South West London remedials won’t warm the cockles of the ditch’s faithful, the return of an old friend should more than counteract the negative vibes.

Dragon bar is like a brother that was sent away as a shabbily dressed yet lovable rogue during an unnamed war to an unnamed land (read the old Dragon Bar was demolished in March last year to facilitate the redevelopment near Old Street roundabout). Just as the memories and heartache began to fade, in jaunts said toerag having undergone a spivish makeover. Whilst the red, perma pulled-closed curtains give the impression that the seedy allure of the original Dragon Bar remains, a sharp yank on the curtain shows that the new interior is more Oliver Letwin than Oliver Reed. As per the review of “local” Fred here (Fred appears to be a hot blonde (who’s reviewed pretty much everywhere in East London) rather than a rotund 50yr old, as the name may conjure), the DIY, “fuck you” attitude of the Dragon’s residency on Leonard Street seems to have been replaced by that oft-replicated, never convincing, high-end yet “eccentric” look which the Grand Union chain has officially raped, pillaged and killed over the last 5 years or so. However, out of respect and love for the old Dragon Bar, I’m willing to put my neck out and say that this place will, over time, have ditch-doers carving “I heart Dragon Bar” in trees around Hackney once again. The original Dragon Bar evolved around those that frequented it, Darwin would have been proud. The new Dragon Bar may have that “shiny new shoes” feel at the moment, but if they can ward of the cunts and find the magicians and miscreants that formally called it home, they’ll be staving St. George off for a fair while yet.

As we said in our article last year on the death of Shoreditch, we anticipated a move away from the environs of Old Street etc and the clubs that now seem less ‘cooler than thou’ and more ‘only marginally cooler than Slough’. We envisaged the hedonista movement branching further into Hackney, Dalston and beyond and the less eccentric crowd heading down towards London Bridge and returning to Islington. Much of this has happened, with the growing clammer to get onto the 149 being testament to Dalston’s rise to prominence amongst the “n’e'r do wells” of the Capital.

Read on for the roadmap of Dalston hangouts.

This review fits kindly into the format of the matrimonial ditty “something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue”. Dalston Jazz Bar is indeed the wise old head of the Dalston scene, having kept the oddities that wish to be out until 6am well lubricated for as long as I can remember. Now for something new. Efes Snooker Hall will be hosting an warehouse-style rave to mark NYE, Florence & The Machine are doing a DJ set, the flyer sound like someone has scatter-gunned the genres from 1970s to now to derive the line-up. My advice would be to wear your best underwear just in case you don’t come out the other side…

Now the first time I went to our next featured bar, I assumed I had stumbled across a 1980s porn reunion. It was wall-to-wall with hairy-lipped Lotharios; bushy ones, long ones, curly ones and clearly some borrowed ones unless I missed a pandemic of excess hair growth amongst hot arty chicks. The Moustache Bar is a tight, basement venue which is popular with a flamboyant crowd, if you’re the cool kid from accounts, maybe give this one a miss.

Finally something blue, well at least I think it’s blue. Something there was definitely blue, either that or I was visually challenged through my exploits in Holloway before heading to this place. Visions Video Bar is another basement bar who’s spiritual possession of this former film stockist just feels kinda right in a kitsch way.

The beauty of Dalston junction is that if you go down Kingsland Road you’re in Shoreditch, if you go up Kingsland Road you’re in good ol’ Stokey…if you go East you’re in Hackney Central and West you’re in Essex Road/Islington. That puts Dalston firmly in the centre of the North East London nightlife compass for me. Also as noted in our earlier piece on ‘free buses’ in London, Dalston and it’s surrounding areas are serviced joyfully by a bevvy of bendy buses for the thrify/risk-seeking amongst you.

There’s a strong chance I am alone on this, but personally I like my rock venues to be shit scary. Dark basements you would only consider entering when recklessly drunk, on the tail end of a speed binge. I remember in my teenage years at the Brixton Fridge, watching a guy bleed all over a sink as he reset his broken nose and ran back out to mosh in front of Poison Ivy. I like my venues to double as gay bars on Tuesdays, so if you get the wrong day you’ll wind up having a very different experience. These things reassure me that rock is alive and pulsating with the hate and violence of our jilted generation.

Sin, located in the down market end of the West End is not such a place. I must be candid about the fact I do not know what they were playing downstairs. Perhaps you could ask the guy with more piercings than a smack addict, whose name was Harry and he worked in a Sussex architect’s office. It was certainly some shouty combination of drums and guitars, gravely vocals forced out of a middle class throat. I do remember the opening DJ was an extremely hot girl and then when I went back at 2am to ask for Rage Against the Machine the DJ had morphed into a man in drag. It did take me longer than it should for me to realise, but he was facing away from me and wearing a black wig. Really.

But I deviate. My point is about Harry, the man with a shitty face and a charming demeanour. Everyone wore black at this place. In much the same way as The Electric Showrooms, it is easy to feel like you are attending an international ‘I love the Crow’ convention. (I was only at the Camden Electric Ballrooms because I had got the venue confused with the Angel one. The website is confusing, I think deliberately in an attempt to dilute all the Crow fanatics).

No one at Sin scared me, I was by far and away the most unhinged person there. The dance floor was self conscious and no one could quite settle on quite how to rock out in the appropriate manner. People were having a good time, there were plenty of bull horn fists and long ‘Bodyform’ / Timotei hair. From what I could tell they were predominantly revelling in the thrill of being out of the chatroom and in the club, sharing their music without the hindrance of typing. No one intimidated me, which I found disappointing. Trodden toes responded with polite apologies. Newcastle Brown Ale was sold by the bottle, often associate with commercial suicide. A nice big bottle of fight juice you can smash in half when you get to the bottom.

My Dad tells me stories of Nottingham bars where Newcy Broon was served in draught. Outside on the street, the men fought on the right of the door and women fought on the left. The streets were busy on a Friday night. All I have to come back at him with is Harry and that makes me feel like a pussy. My father mocks me with his tales of ‘The Stones’. Of breaking in to Hendrix gigs, standing at the back of the upper balcony and still not being able to heae a person shouting directly into your ear. Let’s get back to basics. Go on Sin, go ahead, ‘Pick up the gun’.

Cowards die many times before their death

Shoreditch hasn’t always been packed full of languishing artistes, whining musicians and general “cooler than thou” fuck tools. Some of it’s famous former residents include Jeremy Beadle (RIP), Barbara Windsor (watch the infamous Carry on Camping scene here) and none other than William Shakespeare. In fact, if the Bard was still around today he’d pretty much be the next door neighbour of the Irregulars and we would no doubt be big buddies, pulling all nighters dancing to victorian electro mash ups.

As a hat-tip to the ruff-sporting maestro, a number of performance are planned at the Old Blue Last this month. Drop by on either 2,9, 16, 23 or 30 August to be immersed in some wordsmithery which will far surpass the usual sub-normal lyrics that spew out the mouths of the bands who normally take to the stage at this venue. Check out some tickets here. If you fancy a quick read of some of his handiwork, the complete works can be found here.

No doubt the fashionistas of Shoreditch will shortly be sporting this tasty little number…

Those that have trawled the vast expanses of Brick Lane market will know that in some flyer-strewn corners lie stalls that hawk the lampoons, lullabies and larks of literary greats, all for the princely sum of less-than-a-bagel (an accepted East End measure of relative-price).

In addition to this wordy ware-fest, something else of a bookish bent is awry according to our sources (the rather spiffingly re-designed 93 Feet East myspace page, here).

Book Slam, “London’s Best Literary Nightclub” (not much challenge at the moment, watch this space!) normally takes place at Neighbourhood in Westbourne Park, which regular Irregulars will know is way off our radar! However, to mark the advent of the school holidays, the kind folk of Book Slam will be making the epic journey over to the East for a night of quite stellar proportions. Irving Welsh will be there to touch a few heads, get a bit of publicity and all that whilst Alabama 3 and Adam Buxton (from Adam & Joe fame) will also be in attendance of this meeting of the literarati. You may remember we featured Adam Buxton on our site a while back for his amusing “You Say We Pay” parody.

So, Tuesday 8th July be there or be in the Waterstone’s £1 bin! If you can’t make it, check out the Book Slam podcast, which is apparently like experiencing overwhelming win in the ears.

Burn So Bright is a new night being put on by some similarly irked people who want to cavort to Cast, slide to Sleeper and potter provocatively to Pulp. The venue is the Royal George just of Charing Cross Road.

Be there or be Menswear! The Irregulars will be there in force, if you see a dark haired guy deriving an insane amount of enjoyment from dancing like a nobhead to Ocean Colour Scene I mean you no harm! Join arms with me and let’s revel in this stroll down the rose-tinted road they call Nostalgia!

Just to get you in the mood, here is what they affectionally know as the shit:

Fabric’s tardis-like underbelly will be playing host to Erol Alkan, The Presets, Filthy Dukes (who did a great remix of 22 grand job which is on our playlist over there —>. They also dropped Rip Groove – Double 99 in this set I found on youtube, genius), Monkey! Knife!Fight! (our! personal! favourites!) and bands as diverse as Ipso Facto (who will be gash in a Fabric crowd) and Turbowolf (their track ‘bite me like a dog’ might cause Beelzebub himself to come and boogie with the masses. That song makes me want to fight and fuck in one rather conflicting swoop). All brought to you by the lovely people at ‘Adventures in the Beetroot Field’.

The all-nighter at SEOne need no introduction. I prefer SEOne to Fabric because it’s easier to navigate. No-one likes being crunk and lost, word. Here’s the flyer for tomorrow night and that’s probs where me and my peeps will be dancing like maniacs.

RATED

East is Best Tour (Free, Meet at the Royal Exchange at 2pm Sunday 9th March) - Let’s start with the factual, this tour shows participants what us residents already know, East is Best! I love the blurb that they’ve used to describe this one: “Explore the East End in this guided walk. Meet some of the people who lived, loved, rioted, went mad, lost everything and made fortunes in the area”. Couldn’t have put it better myself!

Late Night Tales Launch Party (Lock Tavern, Camden, Sunday 9th 4pm to 11pm Free) -these guys have been putting together collections of chilled party tracks for years, the kind of music that fills the void between your 3am party phase to your 9am back-to-reality phase. The tracks they choose are like the swiss-army knife of the genre; throw on one of their cds and there’s something for everyone, for the peeps that still want to bust some shapes out, for those that want to be loved-up in a spaced-out little bubble and to those who frankly are just killing time until the after-after-afterparty starts at 10am. A perfect afternoon for those with some semblance of music taste. Here’s their myspace.

The Grand Union Orchestra (The Vortex, Dalston Sunday 9th March Doors 8pm £12) – If ever something could represent the diversity of East London aurally, the GUO probably comes close to it. The music collective draws from the skills of every corner of the Earth, taking influences from every continent and weaving them together into a fine, colourful scarf that is sure to keep you warm on this slightly chilly March weekend.

RETARDED

Duke of Uke Extravaganza (Horse & Groom, Sunday 9th March, evening) - Now we’re not particularly happy to be putting our local in the retarded section and granted the Duke of Uke isn’t just about Banjos and Ukuleles, but seriously, WTF! There’s only one man that can pull off the ukulele and this is him…